Ghosts
by Taliym5
Summary: Angelina Garrio is back at NCIS, but a certain ghost keeps on haunting her. Is she losing her mind? She has to face her past to figure this mystery out.
1. Prologue

My memory plays through my head about my life, as well as my favorite song by Ellie Goulding…yes, I even remember things that aren't relevant, but I'll explain why later. Beggars can't be choosers…here's my life story…my autobiography…the introduction…my supposed epitaph…I'm dying…

"You trembled like you'd seen a ghost  
And I gave in  
I lack the things you need the most, you said where have you been"

This morning I woke up thinking about my dead friends…wondering if I would ever get over their absence. I would even see their "ghosts" and talk to them. Don't worry, I have a good therapist. I always go through the memory roster and end up with Sherlock Holmes. He was a…I'm trying to figure out what we were to each other…In London, where I met Sherlock, I knew I was friends with John Watson. I knew I wanted to protect Molly from the assassins. I knew Mrs. Hudson worried over the frail girl who was framed for her friend's murder…I knew Lestrade thought I was the culprit…I knew Mycroft thought I was a idiot…Long story.

I was Sherlock's client and he was my private detective. I've end up mulling over his suicide and tried to figure out why he jumped off a building…

"You wasted all that sweetness to run and hide  
I wonder why  
I remind you of the days you poured your heart into  
But you never tried  
I've fallen from grace  
Took a blow to my face  
I've loved and I've lost  
I've loved and I've lost"

I know what you're thinking; what a dark and obsessive woman. Well, I use to be cheerful and innocent. I used to be a top-notch NCIS agent. I was great. My twin brother and I were the best and youngest interns. We got into NCIS mostly on luck. Thank God, because it was the best and worst thing I've done. I've been shot at, tortured, and going through emotional breakdowns because of it. I also found my irreplaceable surrogate family. I loved the job because my boss was—is my God father Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I usually call him "Uncle Jethro", "sir", or "Gibbs" for short.

My brother and I were inspired as old teens to join when he and his team investigated our grandfather's murder which I've witnessed. Luckily, we managed to get into NCIS. Even saw some old faces like agent Tony DiNozzio and Kate Todd. Tony is the big goofy one in my team. He's a womanizer, but a damn good man. He's also my surrogate big brother; teaching and teasing me to no end. Kate Todd, is the rational and perfect older sister to me. She always tried to teach me everything, even though she had to learn a thing or two with us. But she would never admit she's wrong. She one of the friends I lost.

"Explosions...on the day you wake up  
Needing somebody and you've learned  
It's okay to be afraid  
But it will never be the same  
It will never be the same"

Ziva David came along…at first I despised her for defending Ari Haswari. Ari held Kate captive twice, and killed her when he was trying to kill Gibbs. He shot poor Gerald when he held him and Ducky hostage along with Kate. He tried killing my team, even Abby. He tried killing me in my own apartment as he taunted me—

I'm getting off topic. Ari was not the last monster I had to deal with or had been affected by.

I came to love Ziva. She became a big, protective sister to me. I used to fear her, but then I overcame that fear and found a partner. We were opposites, to be honest, but we fit together in the team so well. She is my friend…just like the others. She helps me with my problems of learning how to be a better agent, as I help her understand her own skeletons in the closet. We all have them you know. Everything changed when Kate died…I thought I would hate it…like when someone tries to clean my desk and I freak out because…this is the worst metaphor ever. But I have another sister now…I also lost one…

"You left my soul bleeding in the dark  
So you could be king  
The rules you set are still untold to me and I lost my faith in everything  
The nights you could cope, your intentions were gold  
But the mountains will shake  
I need to know I can still make"

Wow…I have so many issues…I'm broken. Damaged. I'm too emotional to witness and investigate murders. But I do it. I go through too much that I want to forget, but I can't forget. My foundation is shaken multiple times…I'm not the innocent young woman I once was…I still cling to that but...it's hard. It's easier when I'm not alone. My friends remind me of who I am.

"Explosions...on the day you wake up  
Needing somebody and you've learned  
It's okay to be afraid  
But it will never be the same"

Tim McGee. He is sweet, and if I didn't love him so much as a friend and partner, I would probably have married him. We're writers and we are the innocent kids trying to learn the ropes. I met him through Abby first. She is my best friend. I love like a sister and try to protect her. Why the family terms…Gibbs's team is a family. I knew Abby before NCIS. Long story that included bowling and shoes. Don't ask. She was my roommate in an apartment. I moved out after…Sherlock…It was a stupid way to cope.

"And as the floods move in  
And your body starts to sink  
I was the last thing on your mind  
I know you better than you think"

Dr. Mallard. I could listen to him all day. He has hundreds of amazing stories and great memory like me. I'm hyperthymestic. I have a highly superior autobiographical memory. It's a psychological burden and gift. That's why you've been hearing about so many memories. Lately, it's been hell…it's the reason I first left NCIS because…this is hard to say…image a movie reel playing all your memories throughout your mind 24/7 and it changes to connect with a current focus…like if you talk about art I will remember all of the times I've painted, all the art I've witnessed, etc. Well, this sometimes causes me to be lost in memories…I space out—freeze up—"faz out". It happened when Mike Franks, old family friend, my Uncle Jethro's mentor was attacked by the port-to-port killer…I wasn't able to shoot the attacker…I spaced out and Mike was killed. I still carry that guilt…only one person knows about it. Not even my therapist, Dr. Cranston, who was Kate's sister, knows. Sherlock knew. He figured it out…I miss him. I'm falling into a depression again…Let's keep moving.

"'Cause it's simple darling, I gave you a warning  
Now everything you own is falling from the sky in pieces  
So watch them fall with you, in slow motion  
I pray that you will find peace of mind  
And I'll find you another time  
I'll love you, another time"

Jimmy Palmer…he's sweet too. Awkward, and so naïve. I try to protect him like Abby, I'm the big to sister to them…it's his wedding today…I wish I was there…good luck Jimmy.

My family…my mom had me and my brother when she was young. She was friends with Shannon and she knew Gibbs. Same old story; my biological father didn't want my brother and me…I found out he mainly didn't want a daughter. Yes, just like my co-workers, I have father issues. Go figure. My father, step-father, is a great man…but he didn't come along till later. I have three little half-siblings—Allie, Armondo, and Rosie…I love them so much…Gibbs was my father figure for my earliest years along with my grandfather. Gibbs is still my father figure, especially in NCIS.

My twin…Trent is my opposite…he's perfect. He's sarcastically hilarious, a genius, and strong…Yang. I'm Yin…I'm scared right now, you have no idea. I just thought you wanted to know. I'm going through my life story so quickly, that me running down some stairs seems like I'm traveling in slow motion…confused? Keep listening. I don't even know who I'm relaying this too…myself? A God? Maybe this is a coping mechanism. I make no sense. My mind is cluttered like an over-filled hard drive…Sherlock explained this to me when we texted.

"Explosions...on the day you wake up  
Needing somebody and you've learned  
It's okay to be afraid  
But it will never be the same"

You see, right now, I'm running out of NCIS because there's a bomb that's going to go off. As I'm running my hyperthymestic syndrome is hard at work remembering everything about myself, my job; the important aspects. Even that song is so important because it summarizes everything. Told you I was a writer/artist—okay I write journals about my memories and use art as an emotional outlet. Oh yeah, I play the violin and love to read too. Just thought you wanted to know everything.

I run down the stairs as quickly as I could. I felt fear propel me over each step with dangerous speed. I went against the urge to run back up and make sure everyone was out. I was running down the third flight of stairs when I was about to turn around and make sure Trent and the others were out—then there was a loud explosion as the building shook. I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs as pieces of the ceiling rained down on me. When the torturous rolling ended, my head smacked against the floor and I blacked out…

* * *

**All rights reserved to_ NCIS_ and _Sherlock._ I don't own anything except my oc's Angelina and Trent Garrio. All rights reserved to Ellie Goulding's song "Explosions".**

**I'm Baaack! I know I said I wouldn't make a sequel. This is more of a one-shot like ff. Not a sequel. I will never call it a sequel because of the sequel curse. If you're new to this story, you should probably read Seeds of Murder, which will explain a lot. Looks like Angel is back at NCIS. Yay! I'm so nervous, I hope no one hates me for posting this when I said Seeds of Murder wouldn't be continued...ahh!**

**Sorry for not adding these bits of info in, but my laptop was going insane. At least I can tell you now, that this scene is based at the exciting end of the NCIS episode "Till Death Do Us Part". I love that episode. If the grammar is bad I do apologize, but again, this laptop is possessed by an evil spirit.**

**Please r&r. Again, if you're new to this. Reading my other ff will help. I hope you all like this. **


	2. Chapter 1: Extreme Prejudice

Trent was running out with McGee toward the elevators when he saw her. Kate stood in front of the window and amid the racing agents. She was staring intently at them. Trent stopped and knew that she was warning them. He threw his arm to stop his friend. "Tim—" was all he could shout before there was a huge explosion of sound and shattering glass that knocked them back. Trent hit the ground head first and blacked out before the rest of his body followed him.

* * *

I run down the stairs as quickly as I could. I felt fear propel me over each step with dangerous speed. I went against the urge to run back up and make sure everyone was out. I was running down the third flight of stairs when I was about to turn around and make sure Trent and the others were out—then there was a loud explosion as the building shook. I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs as pieces of the ceiling rained down on me. When the torturous rolling ended, my head smacked against the floor and I blacked out…

…my ears were ringing when I was finally able to open my eyes. Everything was blurred…I lift my head as the ringing increased and suddenly my vision became red in my left eye. I blink and touch my face. I had a bleeding gash on my forehead and the blood was running down into my eye making me see red. I wipe away the blood with my hand and I tried to get up—but the room began to spin and my head smacked against the ground weakly. I then roll onto my back—which bizarrely took a lot of energy from me. I turn my head which faced the next stairway and saw the ceiling fell in and blocked the stairs. I groan and shut my eyes—my head was spinning—it was hard to think straight—just like the time I smacked my head against the rail in the Tube. I turn my head and let my hand slip from my wound which was slick from the blood. I open my eyes and start when I saw Sherlock was laying down beside me. Well, Sherlock's ghost…an illusion I created to say goodbye…but for some reason he's not disappearing like the others.

He watched e for a moment before saying. "Why are you still lying there?" His tone was calm, like back at Baker Street…that seems like a long time ago.

I muttered. "Well, I feel like that I just went through a washing machine that was filled with nails." I stretched as the pain tingled my skin and my muscles screamed with aches. I don't even want to know how many bruises I had.

He peers at my leg. "Well, there is a nail stuck in your thigh."

I let my hand go down to the dull pain in my leg and felt a nail sticking out of me. I grit my teeth as I pulled out the nail. I look at the nail. Okay, there's blood but no rust. Good.

"I suppose that you're going in for a tetanus shot later."

I glare at him. "Unless you're an angel of death—stop patronizing me." Honestly, I needed him to stay with me, but his witticisms annoyed me.

He rolled his eyes. "Angels—"

"Yeah, yeah, not real." I growl as I tried to roll over, but went back on my back when ceiling debris jabbed at my already sore stomach. And the spinning of my mind continued as a plethora of memories attacked me.

I focused on Sherlock. "I better not die from this." I moaned as I tried to sit up—only to receive a sharp pain that ran up my spine. At least at the railroad I was able to move. I test my feet and legs—I still can feel my limbs—that's good. My head still hurt like hell—didn't I already mention this?

"Who knows—people have died for less." Sherlock answers my earlier comment.

I glower at him. "The bomb went off."

"And you're too afraid to crawl upstairs to see the corpses?"

"Yes." I answer angrily. I don't know if I could handle it.

Sherlock stands up and looks down at me. "Get up."

"Why?" A stupid question, but thinking straight is not my forte at the moment.

"So you can see who's still alive." He holds out a hand.

I slowly sit up and try to take it—only to find that I was grasping at a cloud of dust. I shakily get to my legs and stumble into a wall as I tried to steady my vision. I blink a few times and my vision cleared as the ringing was muting. I look down the staircase. I could climb through the debris easily, but for the injured—it had to be cleared. I look up the stairs, but first I had to see if there were any injured. I climbed up the steps quickly, making sure not to slip on any debris. I stumble into the door and tried to open it. I throw my body against it. I slam my fist against the wood as I shouted. "TIM! TRENT! CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? ANYONE IN THERE?!"

No answer I throw my body against the door as I tried to open it. Dammit. Why isn't this working? I walk down the stairs…and look back up at the door. I need to look for the others.

I crawl around the debris, but my head started hurting again. It throbbed and I sat down next to a chunk of ceiling as the memories of a case went through my head.

"Angelina." I shook my head and see Sherlock standing at the bottom of the stairs and checking his phone. "You still have six steps to go." He tells me, not even looking up from his phone.

I nod as I stand and lean against the railing. I waved the swirling dust away from my face. Sherlock watched me with an impatient look.

I sigh. "Leave me alone…"

"Not until you get out." He answers.

I look at him as my eyes watered.

"Don't you dare cry, Angelina." He ordered.

I sniff. "The dust hurts my eyes."

"Yes, and I suppose it makes you emotional too."

"Jerk." But I smile as I make my way down to him.

"Save your insults for later." He taps his foot. "Hurry up!"

I step off the last step. "I don't know why you keep on coming back."

He watched me coolly. "You should ask yourself that. I am a figment of your imagination."

I sneeze as I inhaled dust. When I opened my eyes…he was gone again. "Sherlock? Wait—I—I still need you…" I cough out the dust scratching my throat. No, I don't need ghosts…I need to get out and help my team.

I race out the exit and was shocked as I saw so many people…how long was I out? I walk slowly…looking for familiar faces. Gibbs sees me and runs up to me. "Angel!"

I nod as I took more steps. He's alive…Before he could say anything, I embraced him. I thought he was dead…I thought I lost him too. Despite all of the filth covering him from the explosion…I could still smell his aroma of sawdust…

Over his shoulder I see Abby, being treated, but she was fine. She was now standing and trying to get a good look at me as the paramedics tried to get her to sit back down.

Gibbs moved me back and tried to look at the gash on my head as I looked around for everyone else. "Where's Tony? Ziva? Tim? Trent?"

Gibbs brings me to the paramedics. "I got to go find them. Stay here."

I shook my head. "No, I'll go with you—"

He grasped my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye sternly. "You stay here and get treated. Do you understand me?"

I stare at him as new hands lead me to sit down. Abby stood over me…a bandage on her neck. "Angel?"

I don't answer as I kept trying to watch Gibbs walk in, but the medics kept begging me to hold still as I ignored them.

Abby snaps. "Angel!"

I turn to her and saw she was upset as she ranted. "Hold still so they can clean and bandage your injuries! They have other people to check! And I'm not going to stand here and let your wounds get infected because you can't hold still!"

I hold still and let them take care of me and answered their questions of what happened to me and who I was…I grimly laughed as they explained they needed to be sure I didn't have concussion. They took me into an ambulance, fixed my leg, and gave me a new pair of scrubs to wear. When I limp out, Abby gently hugs me as she whimpered. "I'm so glad you're okay…"

I hold her as I felt tears leak onto my shoulder. "It'll be alright Abby…Gibbs will find them."

"Alive?" Abby asked me as she held onto me.

I don't answer and held her tighter. "I don't know…"

* * *

**All rights reserved to_ NCIS_ and _Sherlock._ I don't own anything except my oc's Angelina and Trent Garrio**.

**As we can see, Angel managed to get out, but the rest of her team is still missing. Sherlock also makes a appearance as a ghost. One of many appearances actually. The first bit is just to show where Trent is in all of this, and how Kate's 'ghost' visits him too. Cross your fingers that he'll be alright. :)**

**I hope you like it. R&R. please and thank you.**


	3. Chapter 2: Why?

I sit beside Abby and hold her hand tightly. I focused on the building and the smoking remains of the car. I could smell seared human flesh…smell it once and it stays with you…you don't need a hyperthymestic memory to remember.

I couldn't stand it, I get up and pace angrily. I wanted to go in. I needed to find my team. My phone rings, startled that it still worked, and glad to see it was Jimmy. I tried answering it…it went dead, I guess my phone didn't work. Convenient. I shove it back into my pocket and prowled around. I hated waiting, I used to be able to wait for things to happen, but now I wanted to tear out my hair.

I suddenly see Gibbs…running between two gurneys. I saw McGee; eyes open in alarm, and my brother—eyes shut. I run up as questions tumbled out of my mouth, they race passed me as I followed.

In the ambulance I watched as they worked on my brother…he was stabilized, but he wasn't waking up. Why wasn't he waking up? I felt like I was in another fog of dust—figuratively speaking. I followed the paramedics as the ambulance stopped, but as soon as I made it inside, I was stopped by a nurse. She told me I needed to remain calm and wait.

I tried not to scream in frustration.

I sat in the uncomfortable hospital chairs. My phone went off a few times. I didn't bother to answer it. I think I deserved one moment to be selfish and antisocial. I checked a text from Abby and let out a shaky sigh of relief; she found Tony and Ziva: they were safe.

The hot cup of coffee the nurse brought me felt wonderful against my palms. I stared at the steam flowing out of the cup.

A voice told me. "Wasn't there a rule to 'stay in touch?'"

'"Never be unreachable.'" I corrected Sherlock, who was currently sitting beside me. I talked aloud; fortunately the other people in the waiting room were busy with making phone calls or ignoring me. "I can't talk to anyone right now, alright."

"That's why I text." He sniffed as he crouched in the chair impatiently. "God! This is boring."

"Sorry if my brother and best friend's injuries aren't exciting enough for you." I snipped.

"You're worried about them."

"What gave me away?" I asked darkly.

"Go back to your apartment and get some rest." He ordered me.

"Go to hell." I told him harshly—there was no way I was leaving Trent and Tim here.

He sighed in frustration. "Do you honestly think your presence would be able to magically heal them? Don't be an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot!" I hissed as I grasped the cup tightly.

"Then stop acting like one."

Before I could retort, someone else cleared their throat. I look up and see a doctor staring at me. "Are you Trent Garrio's sister?"

"And Tim McGee's friend." I stand. "Are they going to be okay?"

"Mr. McGee will be just fine." He told me.

I felt panic numbing my chest. "And my brother?"

He gently told me. "Your brother has stabilized, but he has not woken up yet. We are running some tests to be sure…"

"That he isn't comatose." I finished fearfully.

The doctor continued. "He should be fine, but I'm afraid neither him nor your friend can take any visitors…go home Miss, you should get some rest." He left me.

I turn to Sherlock who examined me. I take a drink of coffee and it scorched my tongue as reluctantly gulped it down. I finally walked out the hospital as I chugged down the searing liquid.

I drive through the city…like I was going through the motions. And I was. I finally park and sent a text to Abby that Tim was alright. Luckily, Gibbs texted me that he talked to my mom…and I ignored her fourth call with a 'I'm fine text.'. I walked a couple blocks to my apartment; East Main rarely had any descent parking spaces. I trudged passed laughing drunks and tired commuters. I stopped when I heard a shriek, and saw a woman hanging over the ledge of a building. I was able to relax when I saw her boyfriend holding onto her as she giggled, and pull her back over.

I finally see my loft and rushed toward it. I suddenly heard a familiar Bristol accent call me. "Angel!"

I turn around and a smile formed onto my face. I saw Owen Bleek jog toward me. He was a tall, lanky man who grew up in Bristol and London, but he came over to America with his parents. He was also my neighbor. I loved hanging out with him whenever I had the chance.

"It's because he reminds you of me." Sherlock whispered. "Though I find that really insulting."

"Hey," He grinned as he analyzed me; his face dropped. "What happened?"

I shoot a smug glance at Sherlock; Owen was great at reading me—just like Sherlock. The fact he was antisocial and scoffed at the idiocy of people also was a reminder. He took a liking to me though, and I really cared about him too…

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "For God sakes; I'm not an antisocial pseudo-intellect!"

I ignored him with difficulty.

Owen waited and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Who did you lose?" He asked me gently.

Of course he knew about the bombing.

"He probably has no bloody idea! You're a federal agent, who is acting depressed—any idiot would have guessed that!" Sherlock complained like a jealous child.

I bit my lip. "My brother and friend are in the hospital." Why was that so hard to say?

He gazed at me as his eyes widened. "God, how are you holding up?"

"Uh…" I couldn't think of a response for everything I felt, and shrugged. "I'm just tired."

"Did you have dinner yet?"

Oh it was night…right. That's why it's so dark…what's wrong with me?

Sherlock scoffed. "Typical, he knows you're vulnerable and is using the overly-altruistic and sensitive routine."

"That's what people do!" I snipped at him.

Owen's brow furrowed. "Yes, but did you eat anything yet? You look like you're about to pass out."

Sherlock glared at him. "Yes, but he is trying to get with you! Notice the way he is leaning toward you as if to have a private conversation with you, despite the fact no one is around to even hear! Also, he's so focused on you that he does not realize his foot is on a bit of dog droppings."

I ignored Sherlock, but realize he was right…damn it. Maybe I wanted to move on though.

"Then why am I still here?" Sherlock whispered into my ear darkly.

I gulped down the lump in my throat to tell Owen. "Thanks…but I just want to go to bed."

"You sure you don't want any company?" He offered. "I wouldn't mind just hanging out."

"I bet you would." Sherlock snarled at him.

I cleared my throat. "Not tonight…"

He gave me a sad smile. "I understand…I'm just glad you're alright."

Sherlock rolled his eyes in disgust.

I smile at Owen. "'Night…maybe we can have lunch tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan." He grinned as he went into his own apartment.

I finally get into my own apartment and listened to Sherlock whine. "He was desperate, I suggest you let him know of your true feelings so he can move on."

"Maybe I want to date him…he's nice."

"A polite synonym for dull." Sherlock scoffed.

I drop my purse onto a chair and crossed my arms. "You're envious and acting like a jealous spouse."

"No, I'm explaining to you the facts that are right in front of you."

I shook my head. "This is insane."

"A bit annoying, but your problem with 'Owen' is hardly—" Sherlock began, but I cut him off.

"No! This. Talking to you like you're still alive! You are dead. You are a hallucination of my demented mind. Why am I continuing to suck myself into this?! You're not really here!" I shouted at him madly.

Sherlock listened patiently. "We've been over this before."

"It needs to stop." I tug on my hair as I gazed at him. "Why are you still here?"

"Because you want me to be." He told me gently.

I felt my legs shake as I slid to knees and stared at the brown floor instead.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and broke me out of my emotions of despair. "This is the apartment you bought?"

"Loft, and I love it." I muttered as I got back up to my feet.

His eyes scrutinized the place. "Yes, well enough to drink yourself asleep."

I shove the box filled with a couple empty wine bottles back behind the futon. "It's the only depressant that would keep me asleep. My nightmares have been hell."

"It's simply a mental process of memories being delivered from the frontal cortex of your brain to—"

"The hippocampus. Yes, I know, but how do you think it works for someone with a vivid and cluttered memory system?" I went over to double check that my door was still locked. It made me uncomfortable—I was able to easily break into my own apartment—it took me ten minutes—I was using credit cards. Second time, when I used sunglasses, it took five (lock pics tend to be too incriminating, but a broken pair of sunglasses are easy to use and wear). The locks were old, but that didn't stop people from getting in. Now, I slept with a gun under my pillow instead of a knife…things have changed.

He continues. "Stop being paranoid."

I glare at him and sit beside him. "Can't let anyone just barge in here."

He rolled his eyes. "No one would dare to cross you Angelina."

I snort a grim laugh. "You're confusing me with Ziva."

"Apparently you haven't seen what you look like when you're high on adrenaline—it's quite frightening." He sarcastically adds.

I giggle at his stiff manner. "Thanks." I was actually feeling better—emotionally.

"It wasn't a compliment."

I smirk as I stood. "Yeah it was." I walk upstairs and he followed. I throw off my clothes and ignored the ghost. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt that belonged to Trent in his college days—his teen years so to speak. We both attended college after our…strenuous freshman year of high school. We were quite good at college life. We commuted and we were ahead of our classes. What's our secret? No clue.

I climbed into the bed and stared at the ceiling. "Sometimes I wonder…" I trail off—dark emotions returning.

Sherlock sighed. "What?"

"If our roles were reversed…would you be lying awake…wondering why that person jumped off a building…and why you feel so terrible about it…despite the fact you barely knew that person…" I whispered. "The worst part is…I don't know how I should feel…how long I should grieve…or if I should grieve at all…I just feel smaller…like the world is going to swallow me up. I feel so alert despite that I'm exhausted…I feel bad if I cry too much or too little…I feel guilty that I can't react like everyone else…'people grieve in different ways' they say…what the hell sort of explanation is that? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is it some sort of excuse?"

Sherlock listened. "Why do you ask the questions I can't answer?"

"So you can solve them."

"That's what your therapist is for…"

"She isn't you though…" I told him before rolling over and falling asleep.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

**Hey guys! Long time...uh, no see? Well, you are probably pissed that I haven't been updating.**

**I'm so sorry.**

**:(**

**I just had nooo inspiration for this and was distracted by other fic's.**

**But it's finally back. so yays!**

**Sad chapter. aw. So. Trent is in a coma. Poor Trent, I need to stop hurting my oc's.**

**Angel is sad and...hallucinating. But that's okay because she is imagining Sherlock! Yay! **

**It's her way to cope. Also this chapter was definitely inspired by trips to Richmond, visiting my awesome uncle and aunt. It actually took me and my mom thirty minutes and two credit cards to unlock the loft door. Why were we? My uncle locked himself out and I always jump at a chance to learn lock picking. **

**So, reviews!**

**ikatiecullen101: I'm happy you enjoyed Sherlock! I'm sorry for the late update! :D**

**Elf the Dragon Rider: I'm glad you're happy! Your review gave me the push I need to create another chappie. Thank you!**

**Alright. I don't own NCIS or BBC Sherlock. But I did...muhahahahahahahahahaha!**

**R & R please and thank you for your patience. **


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